


A Pirate's Life for Me

by T_Ninja



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirates of the Caribbean Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Root goes by Samantha for the first few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8450890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_Ninja/pseuds/T_Ninja
Summary: Root and Shaw are pirates who have reluctantly (on Shaw's part) teamed up together on a mission. Shaw hopes to find adventure and enough treasure to afford a comfortable life for herself and her crew, while Root has a different plan altogether. 
Loosely influenced by the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.





	1. Shipwrecked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HufflepuffLovesPizza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflepuffLovesPizza/gifts), [Nesi23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesi23/gifts).



> For Nesi23, who came up with the idea of writing a Shoot Pirate AU months ago and trusted me with writing the story.
> 
> For HufflepuffLovesPizza, who's been so kind to preview my work and offer words of encouragement AND for making me do NaNo 2016.
> 
> Hope I don't disappoint you guys :)

_1665, Port Royal, Jamaica_

 “What happened here?” Governor Samuel Groves asked, surveying the scene before him, planks of splintered wood washing ashore with the waves.

 

“I believe it was a shipwreck caused by the recent hurricane, sir,” a soldier nearby informed him. 

 

The governor looked out into the sea, squinting into the distance. Though night had fallen, the full moon shone bright into his eyes as scanned the black water, searching for any signs of life.

 

“Were they-“

 

“Pirates, Sir? We don’t believe so. The cargo that washed ashore seems to suggest that they were travelers. Perhaps soldiers from England looking to settle into a new life here, by the looks of it.”

 

Groves nodded. “Any survivors?”

 

“None that we could find, unfortunately. It appears that the bodies we found had drowned hours before reaching the shore.” The soldier shook his head. “That was the worst hurricane that I’ve seen in my ten years stationed here at Port Royal.”

 

Groves removed his hat and bowed his head. “May God rest their souls,” he murmured.  

 

“Sir! Sir! Over there!” One of the men shouted from further down the shore, pointing with his hand. “Look there in the sea! A survivor!”

 

Groves followed the line of the soldier’s hand and spotted a dark figure floating atop a piece of plank wood in the ocean. In the moonlight he could see that the figure was steadily kicking against the waves, propelling themselves towards the beach where his men were gathered. He could tell that the person was small in stature – perhaps a woman or even a child – and that they were swimming to shore in a rather calm manner given the circumstances.

 

Groves and several of his men rushed to where the small figure was approaching. As the figure came nearer to the shore, the men could finally see that it was a little girl, about eight or nine years old. 

 

Groves turned to one of the men beside him. “Mr. Kent, please bring the girl to me.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Kent nodded, and ran into the water, swimming up to meet the girl.

 

“Hello there. My name is Joseph,” Kent greeted her kindly. “What is your name, young miss?”

 

“Sameen.”

 

“Hello Sameen. I’m going to help you get to shore.”

 

Sameen nodded and allowed the kind man to pull her to shore by the piece of wood that she was still clinging to. She was glad to rest her legs, as she had been swimming in the water for quite some time. As they neared the shore, Kent lifted Sameen into his arms and approached the governor. 

 

“Her name is Sameen, sir,” Kent stated, gently lowering Sameen to the ground while another soldier brought a blanket to wrap around her shoulders.

 

Groves looked at the little girl. “Hello, Sameen. I am Governor Samuel Groves. Do you know where you are?”

 

Sameen shook her head.

 

“You, my dear, are in Port Royal.” He smiled kindly at her. “Tell me – how old are you, Sameen?”

 

“Nine.”

 

“Ah, nine. I have a daughter who is your age. Perhaps you two can be friends. Do you have any family here in Port Royal?”

 

The little girl shook her head. “I only have my parents. They were on the ship with me. Have you seen them?”

 

Groves looked to his men and back to the girl. “Sameen… I am sorry to tell you that there are no other survivors aboard that ship. My men have searched the shores for the past few hours and found no one – except for you. I’m afraid that you are the only survivor of that shipwreck.” He crouched down so that he was at the same level with the girl. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

 

Sameen nodded. “My parents are dead.”

 

Groves looked sadly at the girl. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Sameen.”

 

The girl looked blankly at the governor for a moment. “I’m hungry,” she announced, “Do you have anything to eat?”

 

Groves looked up at his men in shock.

 

“Perhaps she’s… swallowed a bit too much saltwater,” he mused. “Come, child. We’ll get you something to eat."

 

.

 

Sameen sat across from the kind Governor in his horse-drawn carriage, munching on some crackers and cheese that one of the Governor’s men had brought with him. 

 

Groves chuckled at the way that the little girl hungrily stuffed the food into her mouth. “You know, Sameen, I think that my daughter will really like you. She doesn’t have many friends, but I think she and you will get along perfectly. She used to have a best friend, Hanna, before we traveled to Port Royal from England. Did you have any friends back home, Sameen?”

 

Sameen shook her head. “I don’t like other kids.”

 

Groves raised his eyebrows. Figures. “Ah, well you will definitely get along with my dear Samantha. She doesn’t like other kids either, except for Hanna.”

 

Sameen shrugged her shoulders and stuffed down more crackers.

 

The carriage suddenly jolted to a stop, causing the Governor and Sameen to brace themselves upon impact. There was a commotion outside the carriage, and several raised voices could be heard. The driver was having some sort of disagreement with someone outside, from what they were able to make out of the muffled voices. Suddenly, there was the sound of a gunshot and the voices stopped. 

 

The Governor leaned over and grasped Sameen by the shoulders. “Sameen, you must run. Go. Now!” He released her and she opened the door to the carriage, tumbling outside onto the street just as the other side of the carriage opened and a dark figure entered, pointing a pistol at the Governor.

 

“Run, Sameen! Don’t look back!” Groves called after the girl as she began to run.

 

As she got to the end of the street, Sameen heard a second gunshot ring through the air, and remembering the instructions of the kind Governor, she did not look back and continued running until the voices of the perpetrators faded into the distance.

 

.

 

Samantha Groves sat on the floor of her room, turning the toy ship in her hand; a gift from her father, brought back from his most recent trip to England. She was never one to play with dolls, unlike the other girls her age; unlike her best friend Hanna. Samantha had always been fascinated by ships, the way they were built and how they worked. She had started a collection of model ships when they lived in England before moving to Port Royal. Now, her father would bring back a new model every time he returned from his diplomatic trips from England. Her father had left earlier in the evening after he received word that there had been a shipwreck off the coast of Port Royal. Governor Samuel Groves had always been a very kind and caring man; always willing to help those who were in need.

 

Samantha’s mother had fallen sick shortly after arriving in Port Royal and now rarely ventures out from her room. Samantha preferred the company of her father whenever he was home, and often she was content with just sitting in her room and playing with her ships, murmuring softly to herself and causing the servants in the grand house to perceive her as a rather odd child.

 

That night, as she was admiring one of her ships, Samantha heard a knock at the front door downstairs, followed by the sound of one of the housemaids hurrying to open the door. Samantha assumed that whoever it was at the door must not have been her father, since he would never knock at the door of his own home. She heard the muffled sound of a man’s voice, low and somber, and then she heard the housemaid gasp and stifle back a cry just before the door closed. After a while, she could hear the housemaid slowly ascended the stairs towards her room, and she could hear a faint sniffling sound as the steps drew closer and closer. 

 

“Miss Groves?” The housemaid rapped gently at the door, a slight tremble in her voice.

 

“Come in, Anna,” Samantha called towards the door, still examining the toy ship that she was holding in her hands.

 

The door creaked open behind her and Anna stood in the doorway, still sniffling away into her handkerchief. 

 

“Who was that at the door, Anna? It couldn’t have been father; he would never knock.”

 

At the mention of the Governor, Anna dissolved into a fresh series of uncontrollable sobs. Samantha raised her eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at the housemaid.

 

“What’s wrong, Anna? Where’s father? Was he called away to England again?”

 

Anna shook her head and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She dried her eyes with the sleeve of her dress and looked at Samantha.

 

“Miss Groves, your father…he was…he was murdered.” Anna started bawling again as she uttered the last word.

 

Samantha froze, staring at the housemaid. “But he was…just here this morning. He said that he was going out to the port to help search for survivors of a shipwreck. How can he be murdered?”

 

“It was a robbery, Miss Groves,” Anna sobbed, “His carriage was ambushed on his way back home. They killed his driver too and took anything of value that they could find in the carriage and on his person.”

 

Samantha’s chest tightened as she listened to the details that Anna had given her. It probably wasn’t very appropriate for Anna to be telling her such things, given that she was only nine years old. Well, the woman was in hysterics so she couldn’t really be blamed. Samantha had a soft spot for poor Anna, after all. Perhaps because her name was similar to Hanna’s. Samantha nodded to show that she understood.

 

Her heart ached for her father. He was the only person in her life that she felt had understood her; the only person aside from Hanna who did not judge her for being different. She suddenly felt a sense of emptiness creep inside after learning about his death.

 

“Does mother know yet?” she asked Anna.

 

“Fredrick has gone to tell her.” Anna answered, still sobbing.

 

Samantha nodded. “I’d like to be left alone now, please,” she said calmly.

 

Anna nodded. She kneeled down and pulled the little girl to her in a gentle hug. “Oh, Miss Groves, I am so sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man.” She patted Samantha on the back before standing up and walking towards the door. She turned around one final time to look at the little girl.

 

“Please let me know if you need anything, Miss Groves.”

 

“I will. Thank you, Anna.”

 

After Anna had closed the door behind her, Samantha climbed onto her bed with the model ship still clutched firmly in her hands. Then she curled up into the bed sheets and silently wept for her father.


	2. A Dance and a Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who decided to give this fic a chance - thank you! I hope I won't let you down :)

_Four years later - 1669 Port Royal, Jamaica_

 

Sameen walked back sullenly from one of the popular taverns in Port Royal, disappointed that she wasn’t able to scrounge up any scraps today for her dinner. The owner of the tavern was a kind woman who would usually throw her any leftovers that she had for the night, but apparently some important people had stopped by the tavern tonight, and the tavern owner could not afford to divert her attention from her special guests.

 

“Come back another night, girl. I have important guests that I have to accommodate tonight,” The tavern owner had called to Sameen when she saw the teenaged girl loitering around the kitchen entrance.

 

Sameen’s stomach growled impatiently as she walked away, and she patted it in hopes that the hunger would eventually subside. She walked around to the front of the tavern - looks like it’s time for a backup plan.

 

Sameen pulled the hood of her tattered cloak over her head and held out her hand to the patrons who were exiting the tavern. Sameen wouldn’t usually resort to begging for money, but the leftovers from the kitchen have been few and far between lately.  Besides, she wasn’t really begging for money. She just needed a brief distraction that would buy her enough time to pickpocket whichever poor soul should come strolling out next. The trick was easy: approach the unsuspecting guest stumbling out of the tavern begging for some change, and then surreptitiously grab their coin purse when they were busy trying to drunkenly stagger out of the way.

 

“Some spare change, sir?” Sameen called to a patron, hobbling towards him with her hand outstretched, intentionally bumping into him.

 

“Get away from me, you street urchin!” The man yelped, stumbling back and away into the alley.

 

Sameen watched him round the corner before turning back to the coin purse in her hands. She turned the purse upside-down in her right hand, emptying the contents into the palm of her left hand.

 

“Ugh, this won’t even get me a decent loaf of bread,” she complained when she counted up the coins.

 

“That’s a pretty impressive trick you have there,” remarked a voice behind her.

 

Sameen spun around to see a scrawny looking girl about her own age staring back at her.

 

“Go away. This is my turf,” Sameen called toward the other girl.

 

“Really? Well I don’t see your name marked anywhere nearby,” the girl challenged.

 

Sameen regarded the other girl. Her clothes were finely made, her hair was brushed and styled, and she looked like she had bathed recently. Definitely someone with money. She probably had enough money on her person for at least a week’s worth of meals. Sameen decided to switch tactics.

 

“Tell you what,” Sameen said, approaching the taller girl, “I’ll fight you for it.”

 

The other girl raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You’ll fight me for the right to burgle the good patrons of this fine establishment?”

 

“Yes. A sword fight. If I win, you go away and I get to pickpocket in peace.”

 

“And if  _I_  win?”

 

“Then I’ll find some other tavern to haunt. Though I’m going to warn you right now – you’re not going to win.” 

 

“Is that so? Well then I accept your challenge,” the other girl answered.

 

Sameen smirked. She was fairly confident in her skills with a sword. The other girl did not seem like the type who would know how to duel. Her fancy clothes and entitled demeanor suggested that she was probably just another spoiled child who was likely to spend her father’s money on frivolous things. She’s probably never even held a sword before.

 

“So where are the swords?” the girl asked.

 

Sameen untied the string of her cloak from around her neck and took off the cloak, setting it aside. She then pulled out two finely crafted wooden swords that were tucked through her belt. She tossed one towards the other girl, who caught it easily with one hand. The girl expertly twirled the sword and tested the weight of it in her hand.

 

Alright, so maybe she  _has_ held a sword before.

 

“I’m Samantha.” The girl said, smiling at Sameen.

 

“What?”

 

“My name. It’s Samantha. I figured that you should know the name of the person who will be beating you at this sword fight.” Samantha grinned smugly at her.

 

Sameen scoffed. “You’re _not_ beating me.”

 

Samantha smiled “It’s cute that you think so. Now, it’s your turn.”

 

“Huh? My turn for what?”

 

“To tell me your name, silly. It’s very simple, I’ll show you how to do it. All you have to do is say ‘my name is,’ and then say your name.” 

 

“Why? What does it matter anyway?” Sameen grumbled.

 

“It’s common courtesy. I gave you my name, now you have to give me yours.”

 

“I don’t  _have_  to do anything.” Sameen growled.

 

“If you don’t tell me your name, I guess I’ll just have to make one up for you.” Samantha announced. “Something fitting…Oh! How about short-“

 

“Sameen. My name is Sameen. Are you happy now? Can we get on with the fighting?”

 

Samantha smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

“I only said it so you would stop talking.”

 

Samantha beamed. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sameen,” she said, taking her stance with the sword. “Shall we start on three?”

 

“Fine with me,” Sameen said, getting into her own stance. 

 

“One…two…three!”

 

The girls charged at each other, their wooden swords clacking together as they made contact. Sameen swung her sword expertly and Samantha answered every strike with ease. They battled back and forth, narrowly avoiding people and objects in their way.

 

“You’re pretty good with a sword,” Samantha remarked as she lunged forward with an overhead strike.

 

“I better be. I practice every day.” Sameen answered, catching the strike with the blade of her sword and swinging back with a swipe from the left. “I guess you’re not too bad yourself,” she admitted.

 

“I’ve been taking lessons since I was seven,” Samantha said, jumping back to avoid the swipe.

 

“Lucky. I had to teach myself by watching the soldiers while they spar.” Sameen grunted as she attempted her own overhead strike.

 

“Hmmmmm beauty _and_ brains. Well - looks like you’re not just a pretty face, after all.”

 

Sameen momentarily froze at the remark, but her moment of hesitation was all that it took for Samantha to strike sharply at the hilt of her sword, sending it flying into the air. Samantha caught the sword in her other hand and grinned at Sameen.

 

“You cheated!” Sameen sputtered.

 

“How so?”

 

“You…you…you distracted me with all of your talking.”

 

“Don’t tell me that someone as pretty and talented as you can’t duel and converse at the same time,” Samantha teased.

 

“You’re doing it again!” Sameen huffed.

 

“Doing what? I merely complimented you. Don’t tell me you’ve never been complimented before. Surely some boy or girl has tried seeking your affection?”

 

“Not if they wanted to continue breathing,” Sameen grumbled.

 

Samantha grinned. Something about this grumpy ball of fury fascinated her. She looked back down at the wooden swords in her hands and brought them up close to examine them.

 

“The craftsmanship on these swords is exquisite,” she marveled at the detail carved into the wooden swords. She looked back at Sameen. “Did you make these?”

 

Sameen shrugged. “Just a hobby of mine.”

 

“Sameen, these are beautiful! Why don’t you trying selling them? You could probably make some decent money so that you don’t have to spend your days pickpocketing for change anymore.”

 

Samantha stepped towards Sameen and handed her back the swords.

 

Sameen scoffed, stuffing the swords back through her belt on either side of her hips. “I wouldn’t make any money selling these. Who would want to buy stupid wooden models of things, anyway?”

 

Samantha opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the voice of her housemaid Anna scurrying up behind her.

 

“Miss Groves! Oh, there you are! Come along now, Miss Groves, dusk is falling. We’ll need to get you back to the manor in time for supper.” 

 

Anna hurriedly whisked Samantha away, and all that she could do was wordlessly look back at Sameen while she brushed past her, escorted back towards the manor. 

 

Sameen shrugged, turned back, and walked towards the tavern once again, picking up her earlier discard cloak and preparing to pickpocket another drunk patron on their way home. 

 

“Excuse me, miss!” Anna’s voice sounded behind her, causing Sameen to spin around.

 

Anna rushed up to Sameen and pulled out a coin purse and a folded up piece of paper from the pocket of her apron. She held out both items to Sameen, beckoning for her to take them.

 

“This is from Miss Groves,” she said, placing the items into Sameen’s hand.

 

“Word of advice, if I may,” she leaned in and lowered her voice, “Miss Groves has a fondness for toy model ships made of wood. I just thought you’d like to know.” She then gave a kind smile and turned around to go back to the manor, leaving Sameen to look down at the items in her hand. 

 

Sameen opened the purse and counted the coins inside. There was enough there to buy her food for the next month. She pocketed the purse and unfolded the piece of paper next, reading the words written in neat handwriting: 

 

_For the sword. – Samantha_

 

Sameen looked down at her waist to find that one of the swords had gone missing without her noticing. She shook her head and smiled, folding the note back up and tucking it into her pocket.


	3. Second Chances

_Two months later_

Samantha stood silently next to a sobbing Anna as her mother’s casket was being lowered into the ground. She had expected that this day would come eventually, but she did not expect to feel so relieved when the day finally arrived. Her mother had been suffering for much too long, and nearing the end of her life she was nothing more than an empty shell.

Also at the funeral was a man that was introduced to Samantha as Ronald Carmichael, a distant cousin of her mother’s. Carmichael had recently traveled to Port Royal, having been appointed the conservator of the Groves’ estate until Samantha was old enough to take over the affairs. Samantha distrusted him immediately upon meeting him. She noticed the way he leered at the young housemaids at the manor when they passed him, and there was no trace of sincerity in his voice when he offered his condolences to her at her mother’s funeral.

Unfortunately, Samantha’s instincts were correct, and almost immediately after Carmichael had taken conservatorship of the estate, he had squandered large amounts of her father’s money on drinking and women. He treated the servants poorly, constantly berating them and threatening to throw them out in the streets when any of them dared to question his spending. Several of the servants had finally had enough and left of their own accord, choosing to take their chances out in the street rather than stay another day working for the poor excuse for a human. Anna had stayed out of loyalty to Samantha, despite the constant verbal abuse that she suffered.

Samantha deliberately tried his patience several times, trying to trick him into lashing out at her so that she could report him to the new Governor and have him thrown out of the property. Though only thirteen years old, Samantha was confident that she could handle the affairs of the estate with the help of Anna and the rest of her loyal staff. But Carmichael was always sickly polite to Samantha, knowing that his good fortune would come to an end if he treated her badly, so instead he took out all of his frustration on the employees.

One day, about a month after the death of Mrs. Groves, Carmichael came home late after a night of drinking and had struck Anna when she politely that he be quiet, as Samantha was sleeping upstairs. This was the last straw. Anna packed her belongings the very next day, tearfully apologizing to Samantha and trying to explain to her as best she could why she could no longer stay. Samantha watched from the stairs as everything that had connected her to this manor disappeared the moment that Anna closed the front doors behind her.

The day after Anna left, Samantha ventured out into the town, telling Carmichael that she was going out to run some errands. She stopped by the town butcher and then afterwards visited the blacksmith. When she came home that evening she told her new housemaid Maria that she was not feeling well, suffering from a headache that was probably the result of too much sun. Once Maria had left her room, Samantha sat down at her desk and wrote an entry in her journal. Once finished, she went to retrieve the satchel that she had brought with her when she ran her errands earlier in the day. She reached into the satchel and produced a knife which she had bought from the blacksmith. She tucked the knife under her pillow and got into bed, waiting for sounds of Carmichael returning to the house after his nightly ritual of drink and women.

.

Maria’s blood-curdling scream the next morning woke up the entire household, all of the servants rushing out of their own beds towards the source of the sound. Maria rushed out into the hallway holding a bloody knife in her shaking hands.

“What the hell is going on here?” Carmichael roared as he burst out of his room, having also been awakened by the scream. He looked at the housemaid and spotted the bloody knife in her hands. “What do you have there?” he demanded.

“I – I found this on Miss Groves’ bed.” Maria said, sobbing while she held out the bloody knife to Carmichael.

Panick dawned on Carmichael’s face. “Where is she? Is she still in there?” he shouted, pushing Maria and rushing into Samantha’s room.

When he entered the room, he found all of her belongings in disarray; the furniture had been upturned, and the rest of her room ransacked. Most of her model ships lay broken on the floor, and an obscene amount of blood trailed from her bed to the broken window.

Carmichael turned to one of the servants. “Go find the governor. Request for him to send a search party. We _must_ find Samantha.”

.

The search took up most of the day, with the Thomas Sutler, the Captain of the Guard, at the head of the investigation. When no one in town was able to give them any useful information, the search party ultimately ended up at the harbour.

“Search the harbour,” Sutler directed to his officers, “Report back to me if you see anything unusual.”

“Excuse us, sir – are you looking for someone?” a voice behind him asked.

The Captain turned around to see a teenaged boy and girl looking at him curiously. Their clothes were tattered and their faces were dirty. Probably street urchins, he concluded.

“Do you two live nearby?” Sutler asked.

“Yes sir, we do.” The boy answered.

“What are your names?”

“Mine’s Jack,” Jack answered. He pointed to the girl, “And this is my sister Lizzy.”

Sutler studied the two children. “Why isn’t Lizzy speaking for herself?”

“She’s a mute, sir. Hasn’t uttered a single syllable in her life.”

Sutler raised an eyebrow. “Alright, then. Have you two seen anything unusual around here since last night?”

“As a matter of fact, sir, we have. But uh, I might need some encouragement to jog my memory.”

The Captain rolled his eyes and tossed a coin at the boy.

“Much appreciated, sir. My sister and I were out here late at night looking for food, minding our own business, when we heard some muffled voices. We quickly jumped into one of those rowboats over there to hide and see what all the noise was about. We saw two men dragging a young girl with them. They had her bound and gagged and they were dragging her towards the docks. I think she was unconscious. She wasn’t moving, and there seemed to be blood all over her clothes.”

“Did you see what these men looked like? Did they say anything?” Sutler inquired.

“We didn’t see their faces, but I did hear them talking to each other. I just…I can’t seem to recall what they had said exactly. Maybe a little bit more encouragement?”

“Don’t push it too far, boy,” Sutler said, tossing him another coin. “That’s all you’re going to get.”

Jack grinned. “Thank you, sir. The men were talking to each other about some man named Carmichael. From what I can make out of their conversation, it seems like they were hired by this Carmichael to get rid of the girl. Something about him standing to inherit a large amount of money if she was out of the picture.”

“Interesting,” The Captain nodded. He turned to one of his officers. “Go fetch Mr. Carmichael. It appears he has a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer replied, turning around and heading back into town.

Sutler turned back to the boy. “What happened to the girl?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I told you that you’re not getting any more money.”

“Honestly, sir. We crept out of the boat and ran away before they could notice us. However…”

“However what?” Sutler urged.

“As we were running away, I heard a big splash. As if something heavy was being thrown into the water.”

The Captain nodded and turned to the rest of his men. “Check the docks. See if you can find out what they tossed into the ocean.”

“Thank you, Jack. You and your sister might have assisted in solving a serious crime today.”

“Just doing our civic duty, sir.” Jack answered while Lizzy nodded next to him.

“Captain! We’ve found something!” One of the officers called.

The Captain and the rest of the men ran over to where the officer was. The officer held out a satchel that was torn and covered in blood.

“We saw this floating in the water, sir. Perhaps the poor girl was killed and tossed into the ocean by those two men that the boy was telling us about.”

“Is there anything in the satchel?” Sutler asked.

“Yes, sir. We found this,” the officer held out a wooden toy ship, also streaked in blood.

The Captain sighed. “That’s one of hers. I believe this concludes our investigation, men. Let’s head back into town and have a talk with Mr. Carmichael.”

The Captain and his men gathered the satchel and toy ship and headed back into town, passing Jack and Lizzy on their way back. Once the group was out of earshot, Jack turned to Lizzy.

“How’d I do?”

“You did great, Jack. Thank you,” she replied, handing him a coin purse. “Pleasure doing business with you. You don’t think I went too far with all the blood?”

“Nah, it didn’t look like they suspected anything.”

“Oh good, I was worried that I got a little carried away. Had to make use of all that pig’s blood that the butcher gave me. You should see the scene that I painted at home. Looked like something right out of a nightmare.”

Jack chuckled. “Well, looks like you’re free now to live your own life without having to worry about that crooked Carmichael character.”

Lizzy nodded. “That’s a relief. Well, I better be on my way, then. Thanks again, Jack,” she said, turning to leave.

“Anytime, Lizzy. Say – what’s your real name, anyway? We both know it’s not Lizzy.”

The girl turned around and smiled. “You can call me Root.”

.

_One week later_

 

Sameen stood on the steps of the manor and knocked on the large double doors. She studied the wooden toy ship in her hands as she waited for someone to open the door. She had never built a wooden ship before, and had spent over three months going to the harbour and studying ships in order to craft this model. She had snuck onto the ships at night and looked at every intricate detail so that she could replicate it when she got back to home, which was just an abandoned dilapidated shack on the outskirts of town.

After her duel with Samantha over three months ago, Sameen had gone home and looked at the note again. _Samantha_. _Miss Groves_. It had not taken long for her to figure out that Samantha was the daughter of the late Governor Groves. Sameen had thought of telling Samantha that she was with her father the night that he was killed. She deserved to know. The Governor had been kind to her, and his daughter deserved to know that his final act before getting killed was to save the life of a little girl. Maybe she can even help with avenging his death. Sameen thought about what to say to Samantha when she would hand the model ship to her. Should she tell her about her father right away or wait until afterwards?

The doors finally opened, pulling her out of her thoughts, and she was greeted by Fredrick, the butler.

“Can I help you, miss?” He asked kindly.

“Uh, yes. I am looking for Samantha Groves.”

Fredrick’s eyes widened for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I am so sorry to inform you that Miss Groves has unfortunately passed away just recently.”

Sameen looked at Fredrick for a moment and nodded to indicate that she understood.

“Uh, thank you,” she said, and turned around to leave.

“Wait, miss!” Frederick called after her.

Sameen turned around.

“What is your name, miss?”

“Sameen.”

“Ah, Sameen. Miss Groves had mentioned you. She really liked the sword that you made; took it out every day. She wanted to go see you again, but her mother’s health had taken a turn for the worst. And then shortly after her mother passed away…” he trailed off, his silence explaining the rest.

“How did she die?” Sameen asked.

“She was assassinated. The murderers were hired by Mr. Carmichael.” Fredrick shook his head sadly. “It seemed that Mr. Carmichael was planning to have Miss Groves killed so that he could inherit the estate for himself. Miss Groves had suspected this and had feared for her life. She even wrote in her journal that she had seen him speaking in hushed tones with some unsavory characters, and that she was afraid that he was planning on getting rid of her.” Fredrick met Sameen’s oddly emotionless eyes with his own sad ones. “Miss Groves had always been a very bright child; she had very sharp instincts. It is such a shame that we lost her at such a young age. At least her journal entry and the eyewitness accounts of some local children helped to convict Mr. Carmichael of conspiracy to commit murder. He is to be hanged today at the gallows, good riddance.”

Sameen nodded and looked down at the model ship in her hands, tucking it back into her satchel. “Thank you for letting me know. Have a nice day,” she said, turning around again to leave.

“Goodbye, Sameen,” Fredrick said sadly, watching as her figure retreated into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that this was one of those slow burn fics? Don't worry, you won't have to wait too long for these two to reunite :)


	4. Killer Instincts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning on this one for canon-typical violence and dark subject matter.

Root stood amongst the crowd and watched as Ronald Carmichael was led to the gallows. Well, more like _dragged_ to the gallows. Carmichael sniveled and begged for his life the entire way, making for quite a spectacle for the audience. As he was pushed up towards the noose, stepping on top of a barrel, an officer stood to the side and read out the charges against him.

“Ronald Carmichael, charged with conspiracy to commit murder, has been found guilty and is hereby sentenced to be hanged by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul.”

The executioner draped the noose over his neck and tightened it, cringing at the way that Carmichael was still sobbing incessantly.

“Any last words?” The executioner asked, per custom.

“I didn’t do it! I’m innocent!” Carmichael protested.

“That’s what they all say,” the executioner retorted, kicking out the barrel from underneath Carmichael’s feet.

As Carmichael hung from the noose wildly kicking his legs, Root removed the hat she was wearing and shook out her hair, letting it cascade down her shoulders. She stared straight into Carmichael’s eyes and watched them widen in realization as they met with hers. After a few more moments of struggling, the life drained out of his eyes and he was pronounced dead. As the crowd dispersed from the courtyard, Root could hear various town folk recounting the heinous things that Carmichael would do and say while he was out squandering away her father’s money. The man really was the scum of the earth.

A hooded figure stood towards the back of the crowd, leaning against the stone wall and watching the execution. Sameen had come to watch the demise of the man who had killed Samantha Groves. She was holding the wooden ship and her grip on the ship tightened as she watched while Ronald Carmichael flailed about and eventually slowed into stillness, suspended above the ground by the noose around his neck. She tucked the wooden model ship into her satchel and followed the crowd as they filed out of the courtyard. On her way out she bumped into several people, swiping a few coins here and there for her dinner that night.

.

Following the execution, Root headed back into town. Since Samantha Groves was now dead, Root had purchased a new outfit that would be more fitting with her new persona. No more dresses or whale bone corsets. She was much more comfortable now dressed in a loose white shirt and a leather vest, with trousers tucked into a pair of leather knee-high boots. The money that she took from the manor before she left would only last for so long, so Root thought that she would try her hand at pickpocketing for a living, like that girl Sameen whom she had met several months ago. She searched the crowd of people for a target and bumped especially hard into a figure cloaked in black, quickly relieving them of their satchel.

“Sorry,” she mumbled a non-committal apology to the cloaked figure and continued walking. Root suddenly felt a familiar jolt of energy just then, as if someone she knew was near. She shrugged it off, thinking it might just be the excitement of getting away with stealing the satchel. Feeling quiet proud of herself, Root ducked into an alley and opened the satchel to look at the contents inside. Her eyes widened as she pulled out an exquisitely crafted wooden ship - just like the ones her father used to bring her, but finer. She held the ship out in front of her and marveled at the intricate details; every part in its perfect place. Her eyes stopped suddenly as she read the name printed on the side of the ship: Samantha. There’s only one person who could have made this. Her deduction was further confirmed when she realized that her coin purse had also been stolen.

 _Sameen_.

Root hastily stuffed the ship back into the satchel and ran back into the street, eyes scanning the crowd for the cloaked figure. Unfortunately there was no such luck, and after a few minutes of searching she sighed in disappointment and turned around to head back into town.

.

As Sameen was leaving the courtyard and weaving through the mass of people, someone bumped into her forcefully, mumbling a quick apology before continuing to hurry away. Sameen scowled at the offense, but was consoled by the fact that she was at least able to pull out their coin purse as they rushed away. She felt something oddly familiar about the way that the person brushed past her just then, but chalked it up to the excitement of having just watched an execution. The excitement soon faded as she realized that her satchel was missing. Whoever bumped into her had very light fingers and was able to lift her satchel without her noticing.

 _Dammit!_ She silently cursed, balling her hands into fists. She tried searching the crowd to see if she could spot whoever it was that ran into her, but it seemed that they were long gone at this point.

Sameen started on her way home after stopping to buy some bread for her dinner. The sun had just set, blanketing the town in darkness. She was trekking through the brush towards her old abandoned shack when she heard a rustling sound behind her. Tensing, she reached for the wooden sword that she always brought with her.

“Whoever you are, you can come out of hiding. I know you’re there,” she called into the woods.

She heard a set of heavy footsteps come out of the bushes and spun around to see a dark cloaked man standing there, his face concealed by the darkness.

“Well hello there, young lady. How about you hand over everything you have of value and I’ll let you continue on your merry little way,” the man said gruffly.

“How about you make yourself scarce and I’ll let you live?” Sameen retorted.

“Ah, I see you’ve got a mouth on you. Well don’t say that I didn’t give you a chance,” the man said, brandishing a knife and stepping closer towards her.

Sameen pulled out her wooden sword and pointed it at the man. “And don’t say that I didn’t warn you,” she countered, taking a fighting stance.

The man raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Ha! What are you going to do with that silly little toy? Poke me to death?” he said mockingly.

“Yeah, something like that,” Sameen answered as she lunged forward, striking at the knife in the man’s hand.

He jumped back, dodging the strike and then charged forward with a swipe at Sameen, which she easily evaded. She brought down the wooden sword right on the bone of his wrist, causing him to yelp and drop the knife. Taking the opportunity while he was distracted, Sameen kicked out his legs from beneath him, causing him to land on his back with an “oof!”

Sameen quickly kicked his knife away and stood over the man who was now struggling to breathe after the air had been knocked out from his lungs.

“Now,” she said, stepping on his chest with a booted foot and pointing the very sharp tip of her wooden sword at his throat, “You’re going to hand over everything that _you_ have in your satchel, you miserable flea-infested excuse for a human being.”

The man quickly handed over his satchel.

“And empty your pockets, too,” Sameen demanded, pointing the sword ever so much closer to his throat.

“Alright, alright,” the man said, emptying his pockets and tossing the contents to Sameen. She tapped at his sides with her boot to make sure that he had nothing else hidden on his person and then turned around to walk away.

She strode over to the knife that was laying on the ground and picked it up, turning it around in her hand. “I’m keeping this, too,” she said, tucking the knife into her belt.

“I’m going to walk away now, and if you follow me, there’s a really good chance that you’ll end up being worm food before sunrise,” she called over her shoulder.

Sameen started walking away, looking over the items that she had taken from her failed assailant: some coins, jewellery, and a pocket watch. Shaw took a closer look at the pocket watch, turning it over and reading the inscription on the back in the moonlight: _Samuel Groves_.

“Wait,” Sameen called to the man, who froze in his steps.

“Look, kid, I gave you everything I had.”

“This,” Sameen turned around to face him and held out the pocket watch, “where did you get this?”

“What does it matter to you? I got it a long time ago,” the man answered.

In two quick steps, Sameen pounced on him, knocking him back onto the ground again and pressing the knife to his throat. “Where,” she growled, “did you get this pocket watch?”

“I – I got it years ago. There was a carriage that drove by in the middle of the night and I was told that I had to make it look like a robbery. We shot the driver of the carriage and the man inside and took everything they had.”

“Who else was there with you?”

“Just this one other man. Called himself Lambert. Look, this was just a job – nothing personal. I was paid to kill the man in the carriage and I got to keep whatever I could find.”

“You killed a good man.”

“Like I said, it was just a job. I didn’t even know who he was. I was just paid to get rid of him. I’m a small-time crook, I just work for whoever’s got the money.”

“Well then you chose the wrong person to work for,” Sameen said lowly, right before raising the knife and plunging it into the man’s heart, killing him instantly.

She pulled out the knife and wiped the blade on the dead man’s clothes, standing up and tucking it back into her belt when the blood was cleaned off. Sameen had never killed anyone before tonight, but she did not feel any different as she watched the blood pool out from under his body. She knew that the man deserved to die for killing Governor Groves, and so if anything she felt justified in killing him. She continued walking back home, now with the name of someone else to hunt down: Lambert.


	5. Friends Like These

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shoutout to hufflepufflovespizza for previewing all of my chapters for me and making sure that I'm not posting crappy quality updates =)

After weeks of searching, the trail on Lambert had run cold and eventually Sameen settled back into her regular routine. She had met another boy on the street named Jack, who seems to know a lot about the people coming in and out of town. Sameen had convinced Jack to let her know as soon as he hears of a mysterious man named Lambert coming into town. With Jack as her informant, Sameen was content to continue with her life as usual until Lambert resurfaces.

Sameen had started to sell some of her woodwork as Samantha had suggested. To her surprise, many people were interested and willing to pay for her creations. She had even been able to get a job as the blacksmith’s apprentice after he had examined her handiwork and noticed her attention to detail. Sameen was pickpocketing less now that she had started making money on her own, while also developing her skill as a blacksmith. Not long after she started her apprenticeship, she was given the responsibility of making the swords for the soldiers who were stationed at Port Royal. The old blacksmith allowed her to use the workshop to make her own weapons with the unused pieces of scrap metal, and soon she was able to fashion her own sword to replace the old and dented wooden one that she used to carry with her all the time.

One evening, Sameen was heading back to her shack on the outskirts of town to make herself some dinner after a day of working at the workshop. As she passed an alleyway, she heard a lot of shouting and noticed a group of children crowding around something. She shrugged and continued on her way before hearing sounds of a child sobbing amongst the shouting. She stopped in her tracks and walked a few steps backwards, craning her neck to see what the commotion was all about. 

"That'll teach you to spy on people!" One boy shouted. "Or maybe no one taught you manners because you've got no parents!"

"Look at her," another girl jeered, "she's cryin' like a baby!" The girl cackled and Sameen could see that she and a few of the other kids were kicking at something. Or someone. 

"Hey!" Sameen called towards the group of kids. "What's going on here?" She stepped closer to the crowd and some of the kids stepped out of the way, revealing a small girl, about eight or nine years old, with curly blonde hair sitting on the ground and cradling a shiny object in her tiny hands. 

"My grandfather gave this to me before he died," the little girl sobbed. 

"Well you shouldn't have been usin' it to spy on people!" one of the kids shouted at her.

"Hey!" Sameen yelled at the kids. "Leave her alone. Scram!" 

The crowd of kids hurriedly dispersed, leaving the little girl still sitting on the ground with her broken telescope. 

"Hey kid," Sameen addressed the little girl, "they're gone now. You can go home."

The girl looked up at Sameen through teary eyes. "I don't have a home," she sniffled. 

"Uh, well, do you have any friends? Any family? Where do you sleep?" Sameen asked. 

"I just sleep wherever it's dry," the girl answered. "I don't have any friends, and everyone in my family is dead."

Sameen rubbed the back of her neck. Well this is awkward. She noticed that the girl was still clutching tightly onto the shiny object in her hands. 

"Hey, whatcha got there?" Sameen asked. "Is that a telescope?"

The girl looked down at the telescope. "Yeah. But they broke it."

"Mind if I take a look?"

The girl hesitated for a moment and then handed the telescope to Sameen, who examined it for a moment and then handed it back to her. 

"Damage isn't too bad. I can fix it for you."

The girl looked up at Sameen with hopeful eyes. "You can?"

Sameen rolled her eyes. "Yeah, kid. I work at the blacksmith’s workshop. There's plenty of tools there. Maybe after I fix it you can sell it. I bet it's worth a lot of money; might buy you food for a couple of weeks."

"But my grandfather gave this to me before he died!" the girl protested, hugging the telescope to her chest. "I'm not gonna sell it!"

Sameen shrugged. "Alright kid, your loss,” she said and started walking away.

"Wait!" the girl called, running after her. "I thought you were gonna help fix my telescope?"

"Why fix it if you're not gonna sell it?" 

"So that I can use it to look at stuff."

"Well that didn't work well for you just now, did it?"

The girl pouted. "Those kids were jerks. They bullied me because they knew that I had no one to protect me. I wasn't spying on them at all."

Sameen raised a suspicious eyebrow.

The girl sighed. "Okay maybe I was spying on one of them. But I had a good reason!"

"Yeah? And what reason would that be?"

"He works for the Governor's cook. I just wanted to find out where they store their supplies so that I can find some decent food to eat. I haven't eaten in almost two days - since my cousin Vadim was thrown in prison for stealing."

"I thought you said your family was dead?"

The girl crossed her arms. "Well he might as well be dead. Before my grandfather died, he gave him some money and told him to take care of me. He spent all the money on rum and gambling and left me to fend for myself. To be honest, I'm glad he went to prison. I’d rather fend for myself than live with him."

Sameen considered the options for a moment and sighed. "Alright, fine. You can come stay with me, kid."

"Gen."

"What?"

"Gen. That's my name."

"Okay, _Gen_. Let's go get you something to eat." 

"That's been taken care of." Gen announced, smirking. 

"What do you mean it's been taken care of?"

Gen reached into the pocket and fished something out. She opened her palm to reveal the object to Sameen. 

"A key?"

"Yup."

"A key for what?"

"You know that supply closet full of food that I was talking about?"

Sameen grinned. "You're alright, kid."

"Gen."

"Right. Gen. I’m Shaw.”

“Shaw? That’s an odd name.”

“It’s the name I go by.”

“What’s your _real_ name?” Gen prodded.

Shaw sighed. “Sameen Shaw. Everyone who knows me as Sameen is dead now, so I go by Shaw. Got it?”

Gen shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

.

The sound of glass shattering sounded through the tavern as a furious looking man smashed his bottle of rum onto the floor. “That’s impossible!” he roared angrily, standing up from his seat at the table.

Sitting calmly across from him was Root, taking a swig from her mug of ale, with a smirk plastered firmly on her face. “Actually, it’s very much possible for me to win three rounds in a row,” she answered smugly.

They were playing a game of Liar’s Dice, and Root had been winning every single round since they’ve started playing. The man gave a huff of frustration, tossed his coin purse onto the table and walked away, the coins rattling in the purse as it landed on the table.

Root scooped up the purse and pocketed it. She was about to stand up when a new challenger sat down across from her. Root looked up at the stranger. The girl who just sat down was about Root’s age. Thin, with long, black hair twisted into dreadlocks. She had dark skin and tiny markings of tattoos on her hands and face, and shrouded with an aura of mystery. Root did not recognize her at all, and she had spent enough time at this particular tavern to know all the regulars who frequented here. This girl must be a visitor from out of town.

“Interested in playing?” Root asked, preparing to shake the dice for another round.

“No. I’m interested in talking to you,” the girl responded in a thick Jamaican accent.

Root raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said, pushing the cups and dice aside, “what are you interested in talking about?”

The girl smiled. “You,” she answered. “I have been waiting to meet you for a long time. There is touch of destiny about you, Samantha Groves.”

Root’s eyes widened and she looked around to make sure that no one had been listening. “How do you know that name?” she asked in a hushed tone, leaning over the table so that no one else could hear their conversation.

The girl also leaned in closer, a smirk on her lips and her eyes dancing with mischief. “I know your true name, Saman-“

“Root.”

The girl chuckled. “Root. I know who you were. Who you are. Who you will become.”

Root narrowed her eyes at the girl. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”

“My name is Tia Dalma. I am the sea Goddess Calypso bound in human form. You are my prophet, destined to release me from my human bonds to that I may once again be free to rule over the sea.”

“Uh huh…” Root said, uneasily, moving back to her side of the table. She started to stand up, preparing to walk away from this girl who seemed to be either drunk or hallucinating. Or both.

“You have a fondness for toy ships,” Tia Dalma continued, nodding her head towards the satchel that Root was carrying, “That one in your satchel. It was made by a very special person. A person whose destiny is intertwined with yours.”

Root paused and settled back in her seat. “Alright, I’m listening. What do you know about the person who made this ship?” she pulled out the wooden ship from her satchel and placed it on top of the table.

Tia Dalma grinned and took the ship in her hands, running her fingers over the letters painted onto the side. “Sameen Shaw. You will see her again, but not for a while. You will travel together aboard a ship called The Machine in search of the ancient relic that will be used to set me free.”

Root considered Tia Dalma’s words for a moment, still unsure about what she’s being told. “You make a pretty convincing case, Tia Dalma, but how can I be sure that what you’re saying is true?”

Tia Dalma reclined back into her seat. “Lean over slightly to your left,” she instructed.

“What?”

“Just do as I say, Root.”

Root shrugged and leaned over to the left, just as a knife came whizzing by, barely missing her right ear and burying itself into the wall behind her. Apparently a drunken brawl had broken out on the other side of the tavern and someone decided to bring a knife into it.

Root looked at the knife and then back at Tia Dalma. “Well, that’s good enough proof for me,” she said, slapping her knees and standing up. “It’s not every day that you get to speak to a Goddess who will tell you what will happen before it happens. Count me in.”

Tia Dalma smiled. “Well, Root, you are in for a great adventure.”

Root grinned back at her. "I'm so glad you said that."


	6. Round up the Crew

Root peeked around the corner and then looked back at Tia Dalma.

“So I just approach her?” she asked.

“Yes, Root.”

“And then I tell her what you told me?”

“Yes, Root.”

“And she’ll agree to let us join her crew?”

“That’s right.”

Root paused for a second. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

Summoning up her courage, Root rounded the corner and approached the woman sitting at the table. “Zoe Morgan,” she greeted the woman confidently. “I have some information that you may find useful.”

Zoe raised a curious eyebrow and regarded the stranger that had just approached her.

“Is that so? Well, unless you’re here to give me directions to find buried treasure, I’m afraid nothing you say will be useful to me,” she turned back to her mug of ale and took a healthy gulp.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I’m here to talk to you about,” Root said, sliding into the seat opposite from Zoe.

“Alright, you have my attention,” Zoe said, waving for Root to continue her pitch. “Speak.”

“Well,” Root started, “My friend and I are in possession of a map that leads to a trove filled with – you guessed it – buried treasure.” she tried - and failed - to wink at Zoe.

Zoe gave Root a suspicious look. “And why should I believe you?” she asked. “What’s in it for you? Surely you’re not just doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

Root smiled. “You’re right about that. You see, I need to collect a number of artifacts, and to find them, I would need the assistance of a captain and the use of a ship. Now, if I can help you find buried treasure, I think it’s only fair that you help me with my quest – does that sound fair?”

Morgan mulled over the offer for a moment before speaking again. “So what kind of artifacts are you after?”

“She hasn’t told me yet.”

“Who hasn’t told you?”

Root gestured over to Tia Dalma with a tilt of her head “My friend over there – Tia Dalma. Honestly, most of the time I’m told what to do a second before I have to do it. The big picture – that’s hers.”

“And how long have you known her for?”

Root paused to calculate. “Oh…about two days.”

“Two days?!?” Zoe exclaimed incredulously. “You expect me to believe you and follow you blindly to God knows where based on something that you friend of two days told you?”

“She’s never been wrong. She knows things that happened in the past and will happen in the future; things that no other human would have the ability to know. But she does.”

Zoe surveyed Root cautiously. “Prove it.”

Root grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She cleared her throat. “Zoe Morgan, you were all of fourteen years old when you inadvertently witnessed a murder being committed. You were spotted and paid off by one of the murderers to cover up the deed, lie to the authorities, and make it look like a robbery gone wrong. You did such a good job covering up the murder that the man who hired you recruited you to join his crew. That’s when you met your two friends over there – Harper and Frankie – and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

Zoe’s eyes widened. “Your friend told you this?” Her eyes flickered over to where Tia Dalma was leaning against the wall, watching the action happening around the tavern. She sighed. “No one knows about that day. I…I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Root smiled. “I’m not here to judge, I’m here to convince you to let my friend and I join your crew. We’re in need of a ship and you’re in need of a new captain. I heard your current captain is not getting the approval of the crew.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Zoe said.

“How about we get rid of him and make you the new captain?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You’ve been a part of the crew for fifteen years now. I’m sure you know the ropes, so to speak.”

Zoe slapped her hand on the table. “I pretty much run the ship. He’s just captain in title, which would allow him to take the biggest share of all our goods.”

“Sounds like he needs to be replaced. And by the looks of it, I’d say you’re the most qualified candidate. You’re smart, your crew respects you, and you already know how to run the ship.”

“All good points,” Zoe agreed.

“Just picture it, Zoe. You could be…Captain Morgan.”

“It does have a nice ring to it,” Zoe said. “Alright, you two can join the crew! Now how are we going to get rid of our current good for nothing captain?”

Root grinned. “Oh, I have a few ideas. Just leave it to me.”

 

….

 

Captain Hersh and his crew frequently visit Port Royal to get their fill of food, drink, and pleasure after several months at sea. They like to frequent a popular tavern in town when they stop by. Hersh would usually leave his crew to their own devices for several days. They deserved it, after all. They had lost a few crew members on this last trip, Hersh’s very own First Mate being one of them. The crew was worn and weary and in need of some fun.

Hersh was sitting at a table, enjoying drink when there was a shout and the sound of glass smashing from the other side of the tavern.

“If that’s one of yours, Hersh, you’re paying me extra,” The tavern owner call his way.

“I’ll take care of it, Ellie, just let them have their fun. They deserve it,” Hersh called back.

When the shouting and the smashing continued, Hersh decided to go and take a look for himself to see what all the commotion was about. As he approached the rowdy bunch, he can see that a brawl was taking place. Several of his crew and the tavern’s patrons were gathered in a circle, cheering on the fight. Being quite tall, Hersh had no problem looking over the heads of the crowd to see the two fighter in the middle of the circle.

Theo, one of his crew members, was standing in the circle with his fists up, ready to strike. Though Theo was a large man. Next to him, his opponent looked even smaller. It took Hersh a moment to realize that Theo’s opponent was in fact a woman. Hersh looked over to one of the spectators next to him.

“Reese. What’s going on here?”

“Theo challenged that tiny ball of rage over there to an arm wrestling match after having one too many drinks. She beat him – three times in a row. He got real mad and flipped the table over, challenging her to a fist fight instead, and she accepted his challenge.”

Hersh nodded, impressed. “Any bets on who’s going to win?”

“Theo may be big and stocky, but he’s slow and stupid, and the girl seems like she knows what she’s doing,” Reese said, surveying the scene. “Look at her stance. This girl has been fighting most of her life. Although, I don’t know if she’ll make it out of this tavern alive tonight. Theo’s called some of his friends to watch the fight. Chances are they’ll jump her if she beats him.”

“I wouldn’t write her off so quickly,” a voice behind Hersh said.

“Carter,” Hersh greeted.

“Captain,” Carter greeted back.

“I’ve been watching her fight,” Carter said, pointing her mug of ale in the direction of the girl. “She’s got spunk. Look at Theo’s face. His mother won’t be able to recognize him by the end of this fight.” Carter took a big gulp from the mug and laughed.

Hersh and Reese chuckled in agreement.

“And what do you think, Harry?” Hersh addressed the bespectacled man sitting at the table in front of him, studying the fighters.

“I agree with Joss,” Harold nodded towards his fellow crew member. “Her strikes are precise and intended to inflict the most damage with the least amount of force. She has barely sustained any injury while Theo has already absorbed a flurry of fists to his face.”

Just as Harold finished his sentence, the young woman delivered a swift uppercut to Theo’s jaw staggering him. She took the opportunity to then grab the back of his neck with both hands and pull his face down to meet with her knee. She let go and Theo slumped down to the floor, out cold.

A series cheers and boos were heard from the crowd as the girl dusted off her hands.

“Anyone else feeling lucky?” the girl threw out a challenge to the crowd. “Come on, I’ll even let you have the first shot.”

“The only time that Theo _had_ landed a punch on her was when she allowed it,” Harold observed. “She doesn’t shy away from a little bit of pain. It would appear as if she kind of enjoys this sort of thing.”

 

“Hey! Little girl! You think you’re so tough, eh?” A gruff voice shouted over the crowds.

“And here come Theo’s buddies. Right on cue,” Reese added.

The girl looked at the three men stepping into the middle of the circle.

“Only three of you? Could’ve at least made it a challenge.” She smirked.

“SHOW ‘EM HOW IT’S DONE, SHAW!!!” a tiny voice roared from somewhere in the circle of spectators.

Hersh craned his neck to find the source of the voice. He scanned the crowd and his eyes landed on a messy tangle of blonde hair. Attached to the hair was a young girl, about twelve years old, standing in the middle of the rowdy crowd. The girl was barely at elbow height of the men standing behind her. She cheered on her friend in the middle of the circle, jumping up and down, her blonde hair fluffing furiously as she moved. Intrigued, Hersh made his way toward the girl, pushing spectators out of the way as he approached her.

“Young lady – do you know this girl who is beating up all of these men?” he asked.

“What’s it to you?” the girl replied as she continued to bounce on the balls of her feet, eyes never diverting from the woman in the center of the circle. She turned around to look briefly at Hersh and then turned back to where the action was. “She’s not interested. You’re too old.”

Hersh furrowed his brow in confusion at first until realization dawned on him as he thought about what the girl had said.

“That’s…not why I’m asking,” Hersh clarified.

“Then what is it?” The girl asked, eyes still fixed on the woman as she easily punched one of the men in his jaw and threw a swift knee right into the stomach of another, knocking the wind out of him. She spun around quickly and kicked the third man square in the chest just as he was lunging towards her.

"I'm here to make a proposition-"

 The girl turned to look at him and scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Ew, gross! I'm not interested either."

"What? No!" Hersh huffed in frustration. "I am down a few crew members and I was meaning to recruit your friend over there to join us."

The girl turned fully toward Hersh. "Oh. Well why didn't you say so? That's my sister, Shaw. If you recruit her, you recruit me. We're a package deal."

Hersh raised his eyebrow and considered her words. He nodded. "Fair enough. Can you introduce me to her?" 

"Sure. Looks like she's done with these guys, anyway."

After delivering one final kick to the last guy's stomach, Shaw turned to the crowd and raised her right fist in victory. The crowd of spectators cheered. She then headed toward a table, picked up a half-full mug of ale and downed it in one gulp. She slammed the mug back down on the table and looked up just as Gen was skipping up to her, holding a hat full of coins."

"How did we do?" Shaw asked Gen as the younger girl approached. 

"One of our best nights so far," Gen grinned. "There must have been a lot of tourists tonight. Lots of bets against you winning."

"Tactical error," Shaw snorted. She looked up and saw Hersh approaching. "Who's this?"

"This is Captain Hersh," Gen announced. 

Hersh stepped towards Shaw. "I have a proposition-"

"Not interested," Shaw cut him off. "You're too old."

"Why does everyone keep assuming that my intentions are less than noble?" Hersh asked, exasperated. 

"Maybe you should stop using the word 'proposition'," Gen suggested. "That, and you're also a pirate."

Hersh nodded. "I see your point, kid."

"It's Gen." Gen corrected.

"Sorry,” Hersh apologized, “Gen."

Gen smirked and turned back towards Shaw. "Captain Hersh wants to recruit us for his crew. Can we go, Shaw? Please? You've always said that you wanted to go on an adventure. It's boring here in Port Royal, I'm ready to see the world."

Gen was right; Port Royal held no future for them.

“Sounds good to me,” Shaw said with a grin.


	7. The Adventure Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years has passed, with Root and Shaw leading very different paths. But destiny is about to bring them together again.

_Seven years later_

The thud of heavy boots coming from the Captain's cabin grabbed the crew's attention. All heads turned toward the source of the sound as Shaw emerged from the cabin, head bowed and face sombre.

"Captain Hersh is gone," she announced solemnly to the crew.

Those who were wearing hats removed them and bowed their heads in tribute to the late captain. Captain Hersh was a fearsome pirate, well known and well respected around the Caribbean seas. A duel with a rival pirate captain had left him injured and his health failing for the last two months. He had gathered his crew shortly after to announce that Sameen "The Persian" Shaw will be taking his place as captain of The Machine once he passes.

The afternoon sun beat down on the crew aboard The Machine as they looked toward their new captain for her first orders.

"Reese. Cole. Come help me give our old captain a proper sea burial will ya?" Shaw motioned toward the cabin with her head.

Reese and Cole nodded and followed their new captain into the cabin, retrieving Captain Hersh's newly deceased body, wrapping it up in burlap and lead chains and heaving the body over the side of the ship. The crew watched for a silent moment as the body sunk towards the bottom of the ocean.

Shaw produced a bottle of rum and took a healthy swig.

"To Captain Hersh!" She announced.

"Aye!" The crew roared, and each took a turn drinking from the bottle of rum that Shaw passed around.

.

That night they feasted to honor the late Captain Hersh and to celebrate the new Captain Shaw. Sounds of laughter and merriment drifted through the ship as Shaw participated in arm wrestling and drinking contests with the members of her crew.

Suddenly, raised voices and sounds of a scuffle in a corner of the ship caught everyone's attention, and a small crowd formed around the source of the disturbance.

"I will not accept her as my captain!" an obviously belligerent crew member shouted as he scrambled to stand on the side of the ship, swaying back and forth as he held onto a dangling rope with one hand while gripping a bottle of rum with the other.

"I never liked that little bitch," he sneered, pointing at Shaw with the hand holding the bottle. "I don't know what the Cap'n saw in her. There's no place for a woman in the cap'n's cabin...unless she's there to keep the bed warm for the cap'n 'imself!" He threw his head back and laughed at his own joke.

Several crew members angrily stepped forward, but Shaw halted them with a raise of her hand.

"So, Stuart," she called to the small weasely looking man. "Who would you rather have as captain then, if not me?"

Stuart raised his eyebrows. "Well that's an easy one: me! I'll be a better cap'n than you'll ever be! You know why? Because I'm a man. And my first act as cap'n would be to get rid of all the women on this ship like you, and Carter, and Gen-"

A loud crack cut through the air and Stuart stopped talking mid-sentence, clutching his chest as he toppled overboard. All heads snapped back towards Shaw as she blew the smoke away from the barrel of her pistol and tucked the gun back into the holster at her waist. She looked around and shrugged. "I never liked him."

There was a beat of silence and then the crowd erupted into applause. Reese and Cole hoisted Shaw up onto their shoulders and they continued the festivities late into the night.

.

Early the next morning, just as the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, Shaw woke up and took a stroll on the deck to stretch her legs. She spotted Gen looking through her telescope out into the sea. Shaw walked up to Gen and stood next to her, watching the ocean.

"How's that telescope working for ya?" she asked the teen.

Gen looked over at Shaw and grinned. "Better than ever," she answered.

Shaw reached over and playfully ruffled Gen's hair.

"Hey Shaw?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did Stuart say that there's no place for a woman on a ship? I heard him saying something the other day too about how bringing a woman aboard a ship is bad luck."

"Well first of all, Stuart was an idiot and a creep and he obviously did not know what he was talking about. That's why we called him Stuart the Creep."

"Well yeah, I figured that part out."

"Smartass."

Gen grinned.

"Second of all, he was threatened by strong women like you and me and Carter - because he knows that we could all kick his ass."

"Well you did more than that," Gen pointed out.

"Sure did. So, what's the lesson here?"

"Never underestimate the power of women," Gen said with a pointed nod.

"Exactly."

"So where are we going next?" Gen asked.

Shaw grinned. "We're going to Tortuga."

.

_Meanwhile..._

"Any sign of her yet?" Zoe called up to Frankie in the crow's nest.

"Nothing yet, Captain," Frankie replied, looking through her telescope. "How long did she say she was going to be?"

"She said that she would be out by sunset. Harper, Fusco - if she does not make it back onto this ship by sunset, raise the anchor. We can't risk staying here."

"Aye, captain!"

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Zoe said to herself, looking at the lush forest of trees on the island where they had anchored.

"Have faith, Captain Morgan," Tia Dalma said from beside her, "Root will be back on this ship before the sun sets."

Zoe nodded. She had grown quite fond of Root and her weird companion Tia Dalma over the years; they had helped her find vast amounts of treasure and proved to be useful crew members. Somehow the odd compass that Root carried always pointed to the locations where they could find the rarest of gems and gold. All that they had asked for in return was that she agree to help them find these strange artifacts. Apparently they needed to find a total of five artifacts, and after seven years they are now hunting down the fourth.

"Captain!" Frankie shouted from her perch, "I see her!" she pointed towards the jungle.

Zoe squinted into the distance and watched for a short while until she was able to see a tiny figure sprinting towards them. She smiled. Typical Root - always trying to beat the clock.

"Uhhhh captain?"

"Yes Fusco?"

"Looks like she's bringing some company with her."

Zoe pulled out her telescope from her pocket and looked through it. Hot on Root's heels were about twenty tribespeople. And they did not look happy. Zoe's eyes widened as realization dawned on her. They needed to leave. Now.

"Lift the anchor and hoist the sails! We're leaving as soon as she gets on the ship!" she shouted to her crew.

Fusco and Harper quickly scrambled to their stations, pulling up the anchor and lifting the sails.

"Come on, come on, come on," Zoe murmured, keeping her eyes trained on the running figure and willing Root to get to the ship in time before it drifted off to sea.

The young woman quickly approached the ship and launched herself onto the rope ladder that was draped over the side of the vessel.

"Hard to port!" Zoe shouted, and the ship pulled away just as the the crowd of tribespeople caught up to them.

Root pulled herself over the side of the ship and flopped onto the deck, breathless from running.

"That was close," Root remarked.

"No shit," Zoe agreed. "So, what was so important that you had to risk your life to steal this time?"

Root reached into her satchel and pulled out what looked an awful lot like-

"Is that...a human skull?" Zoe asked.

"Jesus! You went through all that trouble to steal the bones of a dead person?" Fusco added.

"This isn't the skull of just anyone," Root responded. "This is the skull of the late captain Arthur Claypool."

"What's so important about captain Claypool's head that you had to risk your life to retrieve it?" Zoe asked.

"Legend has it that Captain Claypool discovered a magical nautilus shell that bestowed upon him mysterious powers," Root explained, "He tried to use his powers to control the sea goddess Calypso, but her power was too strong. He then summoned the sea witch Control to cast a spell and bind Calypso into human form."

"Sounds like a real winner," Frankie remarked sarcastically.

"Oh, he got what he deserved in the end, though," Tia Dalma added with a grin.

"Why, what happened to him?" Fusco asked.

"He was captured by a tribe of cannibals; the same tribe that Root was running from just now. They flayed him alive, drank his blood and roasted him on a spit before devouring him."

"That sounds...like an incredibly horrific end," Fusco said.

"Like I said, he got what he deserved," Tia Dalma shrugged. "And now that we've retrieved his skull, we now have four out of five artifacts."

"Let me guess," Root said, "The last artifact is the aforementioned magical nautilus shell?"

"Very sharp as always, Root," Tia Dalma said.

"Alright, so where am I sailing to next?" Zoe asked.

"Ah, this final mission is a special one, therefore we will need to travel aboard a special ship. A ship called The Machine."

"Does this mean what I think it means?" Root inquired.

"Yes, Root," Tia Dalma answered. "It is finally time for us to find Sameen Shaw."


End file.
